Fly To Paradise
by Elincia Mahariel
Summary: Morrigan always did what her mother expected of her, and asked for nothing in return. But not even Flemeth can keep a little girl from dreaming.


**Author's Note: Hello, everyone! I've spent the past month working on this little oneshot, and I'm so glad it's finally done. I got the title from a lovely song I'm singing in choir, and I couldn't resist putting some lyrics in at the beginning. Don't worry; it's not a songfic.**

**Without further ado, here's my fic! Please R&R!**

**Disclaimer: Dragon Age and all it's characters belong to Bioware. The song _Fly To Paradise_ belongs to Eric Whitacre.**

* * *

**Fly To Paradise**

_All she ever thinks about is being any other place than this._

_She remembers having wings,_

_But she's forgotten what it's like to feel a paradise of bliss._

_And all I want to do is fly._

* * *

"Focus, girl! You will amount to nothing at this rate."

Morrigan snapped her attention away from the delicate orange butterfly fluttering through the tall, soft grass and turned back to her mother. That morning, Flemeth woke her at the crack of dawn and dragged to a clearing far from their hut. She had tried to teach her how to turn into a wolf all day. So far, nothing had come of it, and Flemeth was getting impatient. When Morrigan looked on her now, her hard yellow eyes burned with anger. Morrigan flinched and looked down. "I'm sorry, mother," she whispered. "But—"

"No excuses!" Flemeth snapped. She grabbed Morrigan's chin with one hand and forced her head up. "And do not show weakness. You will look me in the eye when I speak to you. Understood?" Morrigan nodded and Flemeth tightened her grip. "Do you understand?" she repeated, louder this time. Morrigan didn't dare look away from her piercing gaze.

"Yes, mother," she whispered, hoping she could disguise the quivering of her voice. She failed miserably, but Flemeth ignored it.

"Again," she ordered and released Morrigan's chin. "Think of a wolf. What does it look like? What does it see, smell?" she urged. Morrigan closed her eyes and concentrated. She thought of the wolf she had seen earlier that day. Its fur was sliver, and it had light blue eyes. It was only a pup, but that would work fine. It hadn't been frightened by her, but its mother called to it and it had to leave. She shook her head. She was getting sidetracked. She imagined what the trees would look like to the pup, the grass, the stars. How much it loved its mother. An itchy sensation crawled up her arms and she scratched at it absently. It got worse, and her eyes popped open. Silver fur grew on her arms, and she could feel more on her back, her legs. She reached up to touch her face and found more growing there. She giggled at how the fur tickled her sides. She realized too late that she had lost her concentration and the fur receded, leaving her arms pale and bare.

"Fool!" Flemeth yelled. Fear knotted in Morrigan's stomach as Flemeth advanced on her. What would she do this time?

"I'm sorry! I won't do it again! I'll try harder next time! I promise," she sobbed, then wiped her eyes. Her mother hated tears.

If Flemeth heard her plea, she gave no sign. She was tall, so tall, as she stood over Morrigan, blotting out the sun. She saw her mother's hand come up, then down, down, down and pain exploded on her cheek. A cry escaped her and she fell to the ground. The grass, which had seemed so soft only moments ago, scratched her skin. Rocks, hidden in the undergrowth, bit into her flesh. She shook with fear and anticipation of another blow, but none came.

"You will remain here until you have learned your lesson." Flemeth hissed and Morrigan flinched. "You will not return home unless it is as a proper wolf."

Morrigan didn't see, but she was certain her mother had left the clearing. Everything felt…different when she wasn't around. Morrigan lay on the ground, sobbing, until she was certain her mother was gone. She sat up and dried her eyes with the back of her hand. Shakily, she rose to her feet. Her stomach growled, and she knew she had to get home. It was getting late, and the forest was dangerous at night. She squeezed her eyes shut and focused harder than ever before. She was determined she would be the best wolf her mother had ever seen. Then maybe, just maybe, she would be proud of her. Maybe she would smile at her and tuck her into bed at night. Morrigan thought of the Chasind women, pulling the fur blankets around their children while they slept. If the children woke, they would kiss them on the forehead and sing them back to sleep. No matter how hard she tried, she couldn't see Flemeth doing that for her.

When Morrigan opened her eyes, she was a full-grown wolf with fur as black as the night sky. She only paused for a moment before racing through the trees and back home. The forest was teeming with life around her. It was the middle of spring; Morrigan's favourite season. The way everything came back to life after being covered in snow and ice still fascinated her. After all, she had only seen six winters.

Back in the clearing, the butterfly flew away and was swallowed by the night.

* * *

Morrigan woke to the smell of eggs cooking. She rubbed sleep from her eyes and yawned. When the fog finally cleared from her mind, she sat bolt upright with a grin. Today was the day. It had taken what felt like weeks of planning, but she was finally ready. Flemeth would never suspect anything was out of the ordinary. She dressed hurriedly in her brown tunic and leggings. She was about to rush out of her room when she realized her tunic was on backwards. She set it straight as fast as she could. Again, she was about to dash through the door, but stopped in the doorframe and took a deep breath. Flemeth would know for certain that something was going on if Morrigan ran outside, grinning like a fool. She wiped all traces of a smile from her face and calmly strolled outside.

As she suspected, her mother had cooked eggs for them both. Flemeth barely glanced up when Morrigan tripped over her own feet on her way to the small fire pit. She managed to keep her footing, but still nearly stepped in the fire. Those little trips and stumbles had been happening for the past few months. Every morning, Morrigan felt like she had grown just a bit taller. Now, the top of her head almost reached Flemeth's shoulder.

"Good morning, mother," Morrigan said as she sat by the fire and slid three eggs out of the frying pan. Along with the tripping and falling had come a ravenous appetite. Flemeth had called it "growing up" when Morrigan asked her about it, but said no more. As usual, Morrigan was left to wonder on her own.

Flemeth mumbled a greeting from across the fire. She was in the middle of mixing a potion, one that Morrigan knew was incredibly complicated. Flemeth tried to teach her how to make it once, but it had quite literally blown up in her face. She had received quite the lecture after that particular blunder. Something about too much of one ingredient and how she had boiled it for too long. Most of it eluded her, and Flemeth hadn't bothered teaching about potions again. At least she hadn't resorted to…extreme punishments. She shuddered and forced those thoughts from her mind. 'Twas best not to dwell on such things.

Morrigan finished her breakfast and stood. "Would you like me to gather more herbs, mother?" she asked. She resisted the urge to cross her fingers. What would she do if Flemeth said no?

Flemeth looked up as if she had noticed Morrigan for the first time. "Yes, yes. Go on," she mumbled with a dismissive wave of her hand before returning to her work. Morrigan nodded and fetched her herb basket before strolling calmly into the woods. As soon as she was out of sight, she broke into run, her long black hair trailing after her. She stopped at a hollow, rotting tree stump and removed the cover of leaves and twigs she had placed over it. It was full of water, and the small bundle of herbs and roots she had picked the night before was still sitting at the bottom. She smiled. No time would be wasted with silly chores today.

Today, she was going on an adventure. She turned into a fox and ran through the trees. She knew exactly where she was going, even though she had only gone this way once before.

A few weeks earlier, she had seen the little town while she was practicing turning into a fox. It took an entire morning of practicing, but she finally managed it. When she realized how quick and nimble the fox was, she couldn't resist the urge to explore. Before she was fully aware of what she was doing, she was racing through the trees. She soon reached a part of the forest she was unfamiliar with, but she kept running about, looking under every rock and up every tree for something interesting. Suddenly, the trees thinned out and she saw a small village. There were giant fields of plants lined up in neat rows. Animals milled about in pens next to big wooden buildings. Houses lined a small dirt road, and an especially nice one sat at the end of the street. The nice house even had white paint on it.

But most interesting of all were the people. They were dressed simply, with men in rough-spun tunics and women in long dresses and aprons. The men worked in the fields, picking vegetables off the plants and placing them in baskets. The women sat in the shade of their porches and sewed, chatting amiably with their neighbours. Little boys ran around with small toys or wrestled with each other in the mud. Girls made faces at them or sat playing with dolls. Everyone had a smile on their face. If a child cried, their mother was there to comfort them. Morrigan watched enviously until it was nearly dark. For a moment, she wondered if she could slip in among them. One of the mothers could take care of her. Surely, they wouldn't mind just one more child.

Morrigan shook her head. She knew better than to think these people would accept her. She belonged in the Wilds, not in a happy little village. Still, she couldn't help watching them, which was why she returned now.

The town came into sight and Morrigan turned back into herself. Being a fox was tiring, and she could use some rest now. She crawled closer to the town and gasped at what she saw.

A beautiful carriage rolled into the village, towed by two white horses with shining coats. The carriage was made of dark wood and embellished with what must have been real gold. Nothing else could be so shiny, so regal. There were windows, but she couldn't see through them. The driver—a man dressed in a richly embroidered tunic and thick cloak—stopped the carriage in the middle of the street and jumped out. Children flocked to the carriage, gazing open-mouthed at it. Their parents abandoned their work and followed them.

The driver opened the carriage door and the most beautiful lady Morrigan had ever seen stepped out. Her shining blonde hair was pulled into an elegant knot on the back of her head and her silky green dress was embroidered with gold thread. Jewels glittered around her throat and on her wrists. She smiled, and Morrigan couldn't help but smile back. She knew the smile wasn't for her, but it was so radiant, so loving. The lady bent down to speak with a young girl. The girl smiled shyly up at her and hugged her doll tightly to her chest. The lady straightened up with a pleasant laugh and turned to speak with one of the village men. He bowed to her and walked into the nice house.

Morrigan edged closer, entranced. The lady was so elegant, so kind. Morrigan decided that she was a princess. She had heard of them from tales of Arlathan the Dalish mothers told their children. Those tales were about elves, but maybe it was the same for humans. Princesses were always beautiful, kindly ladies. The tale always started with them imprisoned by someone wicked and horrible. As they grew older, they started to lose hope that they would ever be happy. Then, one day, a handsome prince would come to her rescue and they would live happily ever after in a grand castle. This princess must have already been rescued. Maybe she was a queen now.

"Maybe a prince will rescue me," Morrigan whispered to herself and rested her chin on her hands. She had a dream where that happened, once. Every night, she wished she could have that dream again. It had been so magical. For once, she woke up feeling happy instead of cold and miserable.

A thought suddenly struck her, and she couldn't stop thinking about it. She wanted something of the lady's. A jewel or a small trinket would do. She hurriedly changed into a wolf pup and slunk into the town. As long as she stuck to the shadows, no one would see her. As she crept nearer, she began to lose her nerve. What if someone caught her? What if they tried to hurt her? Those doubts almost made her lose her pup form right then, and she scrambled to regain control. She whimpered quietly. That couldn't happen again. Get in, find something pretty, get out. That was all she had to do.

She finally reached the back of the carriage and leapt onto a small ledge. It only stuck out a few inches, and she wobbled before gaining her balance. Luckily, a window was open. She scrambled through it a fell onto a soft cushion on the other side. The carriage was empty, the beautiful lady having left to have lunch with the village headman.

Morrigan's jaw dropped as she looked around the inside of the carriage. It was even grander than the outside. Green velvet pillows sat on the plush seats, and petal-soft curtains fluttered in the breeze floating through the open windows. A table was nailed to the floor in the centre and covered with a beautiful dark green tablecloth. The remains of the lady's breakfast still sat on the plate. It smelled better than anything Morrigan had ever smelled before. She checked outside the carriage. No one was around except the driver, but he was busy grooming the horses. She turned back into herself and stole a bite of the food. It was a delicious pastry filled with fruit. It was still a bit warm and melted on her tongue. Morrigan sighed and closed her eyes for a moment, savouring the taste. She resisted stealing anther bite. She didn't have much time, and she had to find something special.

There were small cupboards under the seats, and Morrigan opened one of them. There was a beautifully carved box, and she opened it. It was full of vials of flowery-smelling perfumes. Morrigan picked up one vial of rosy-coloured liquid and unscrewed the top. She poured a bit of it on her hand and sniffed it. It smelled a bit strong, but it was still nice. She wasn't sure how to put it on, so she wiped her hand off on the front of her tunic. She debated about taking the little vial, but decided against it. The perfume wouldn't last long, and she wanted something she could treasure forever.

There were jewels and dresses in the other cupboards, but they weren't really what she wanted. In truth, she really didn't know what she was searching for. She supposed she would know when she found it.

A few minutes later, she had still found nothing. "This is silly," she snapped aloud. She shouldn't have even come here. 'Twould be better if she just went home and forgot about this stupid village. Morrigan was just standing up to leave when she saw a glint of something shiny wedged between two cushions. Intrigued, she stepped closer and pulled it out.

Her breath caught in her throat at what she saw. It was a magnificent golden mirror encrusted with dark red jewels. She turned it over, and her own face stared back at her. Her hand reached up to trail over her face. It was smudged with dirt, and leaves filled her tangled, greasy hair. Still, she smiled at her reflection, and it smiled back.

A noise from outside the carriage startled her, and she swiftly turned back into a wolf pup. Snatching up the mirror in her teeth, she leapt out the back window and landed hard on the road. The driver opened the carriage door a moment later, and helped the lady in. "We must be going now, Hershel!" she told to the driver. "The wedding is only a few days from now, and I do not wish to be late."

The driver bowed low. "Yes, m'lady." He closed the door and jumped into his seat with practiced ease. With a flick of the reins, the horses trotted away, taking the carriage and the lady with them.

Morrigan lay on the road, wincing at the pain in her tiny legs. One of the children saw her and pointed. He called to his friends, and they came running. Terrified, she leapt to her feet and dashed for the trees. The children followed, laughing gleefully, but stopped when their parents called to them. Morrigan kept running, stumbling with the weight of the mirror. 'Twas good that no one caught her. Flemeth would be furious if anyone knew she existed.

When she finally stopped running, she was exhausted. She dropped the mirror and let the wolf pup melt away. She sat with her back pressed against a wide tree, breathing heavily. Sweat poured down her face despite the mid-autumn chill. When she finally caught her breath, she snatched up the mirror and clutched it to her chest. She wanted to look at it and play with it again, but Flemeth would be expecting her home soon.

Morrigan stole one last peek into the silvery glass. "She'll never find this," she told the yellow-eyed girl staring back at her. There had to be some place to hide it, a place where Flemeth wouldn't look. She remembered the tree stump where she hid the herbs. It wasn't far from here, and it was utterly unremarkable. Perfect.

She took her time wandering through the forest. She wanted to savour every second of freedom. She laughed and spun through the trees. She imagined she was dancing with the handsome prince from her dreams, the prince that would soon rescue her from her wicked mother, and then maybe, _just maybe_—

"Busy picking herbs, I see."

Morrigan whirled around and saw Flemeth standing not three paces from her. Her jaw dropped, and she hid the mirror behind her back. She had no idea what to say, now that Flemeth had her.

"Close your mouth, girl. Are you trying to catch flies?" she snapped. Morrigan closed her mouth so quickly she bit her tongue. She looked Flemeth straight in the eye, shivering under her mother's cruel gaze. She didn't dare look away. That was a lesson she had learned long ago.

Flemeth held out her hand. "Bring it to me," she ordered.

Morrigan stepped forward reluctantly and pulled the mirror out from behind her back. She looked at it and a wave of anger washed over her. Flemeth had no right to take it! She had found it, so 'twas hers. She hadn't even gotten caught.

Morrigan stopped when she was scarcely a pace away from her mother. "No," she said with her head held high. "I found it, so 'tis mine."

Not one to be cowed by a child, Flemeth snatched the mirror from her hands. "And what will you do with it? Preen yourself in front of it and fancy yourself a beautiful maiden?" Morrigan stayed silent and Flemeth laughed. How had she known? "You are more naïve than I thought. How many times do I have to tell you this?" Morrigan looked away in shame and Flemeth grabbed a handful of her hair, forcing her to stare into her eyes. "Beauty means nothing. Love means nothing. Power is all that matters, and you will learn to master yours!"

"You're wrong!" she shouted. Flemeth yanked her hair so hard that tears sprang to her eyes.

"I thought I taught you better than this." She kept hold of Morrigan's hair as she smashed the mirror against a tree. Morrigan cried out as the glass shattered. Flemeth hit it again and again, until the metal was bent beyond recognition. When Morrigan thought she was finally done, the air around Flemeth crackled with magic, making the hair on her arms stand on end. The remains of the mirror rose into the air, then shred like paper into countless pieces. Morrigan fell to her knees and sobbed. That mirror was the only pretty thing she had ever allowed herself to keep, and Flemeth had destroyed it. The only evidence of the mirror ever existing was a small pile of dust and a few shards of glass.

She only had a few moments to grieve the loss of her mirror before Flemeth was dragging her back to the hut by a fistful of her hair. Morrigan had to jog to keep up with her long strides. She stumbled and fell several times, only to be brutally yanked back to her feet. Tears streamed down her face, unchecked. After what felt like an eternity, they finally came to the small hut. With a flick of her wrist, Flemeth sent Morrigan sprawling in the dirt.

"This is the last time you will misbehave. If I catch you so much as thinking about that village, I will burn it to the ground."

Morrigan looked up at Flemeth, silently. 'Twas better not to speak unless she was asked to. Without another word, Flemeth turned away from her and sat by the fire to eat her dinner. It was a venison stew that smelled delicious. Morrigan's stomach growled and she crept closer to the fire, keeping her eyes on Flemeth to be certain she wouldn't hurt her again. She glanced into the cooking pot and discovered that it was empty. She looked questioningly at her mother, who only kept eating and refused to look at her. For the next few days, Flemeth wouldn't say a single word to her. Morrigan thought about cooking her own meal, but she was too tired. She could practically hear her bed calling to her.

She stumbled into the hut and collapsed on her bed, fully dressed. She had long since stopped wishing that Flemeth would tuck her in.

* * *

"Who're you?"

Morrigan nearly jumped out of her skin. She whirled toward the voice and discovered a young man, perhaps a bit older than her. He leaned casually against a tree. He looked more curious than suspicious, but he had a hunting bow slung over his shoulder.

Morrigan brandished her staff. "I warn you, stay away from me!"

The boy walked closer, unbothered. His boots squeaked in the thin layer of snow. "Don't be scared," he said with a warm smile. "I'm Lukas. What's your name?"

Morrigan backed away. This boy was an outsider, and he couldn't be trusted. Still, telling him her name wouldn't put her in any danger. Maybe if she told him, he would leave and she could go back to practicing a new spell. "Morrigan," she snapped.

Lukas grinned and took another step. "Hullo, Morrigan."

"Come no closer!" she ordered. To her surprise, Lukas stopped moving.

He nibbled on his lip. "Sorry. I don't wanna hurt you. I just wanna talk," he said and pulled his leather pack off his back. He bent down to look through it. "You hungry?" he asked.

"No," Morrigan lied as her stomach growled.

He laughed and glanced up at her through his dark hair. "I'll take that as a yes." He straightened up and held out a small piece of meat to her while he chewed on another one. "Salted deer meat. Worse than cow shite, but it's all I got."

Reluctantly, she reached out and snatched the meat from his hand. She coughed and nearly spit out her first bite. He was right; it tasted like tree bark. "This is foul," she mumbled.

"Me dad made it. It tastes a little better when me mum makes it for me." He shivered and rubbed his hands on his arms. "Maker, it's cold today."

"Yes, 'tis," she grumbled. Like he would know. He wore a thick wool jacket and a scarf. All Morrigan had was her tunic and a threadbare cloak. 'Twould be no problem if he wasn't around, for she could have used magic to make a fire.

"Want me to make a fire?" he asked. Morrigan raised her eyebrows at him. It was like he could read her mind. "We could find somewhere to sit that won't make our arses all wet," he joked. It wasn't exactly funny, but Morrigan had to suppress a grin.

"Very well," she said curtly and walked to the shelter of a tall pine. The ground was relatively dry here, with the thick branches keeping the snow at bay. The branches drooped to form a dome that was large enough to stand under, but it blocked the cold wind. Lukas followed her and piled up some twigs. After a few minutes of him fighting with a stick and a piece of bark, a small fire sputtered to life. He sat back and smiled in relief. He pulled his gloves off and stuck his hands so close to the fire that Morrigan was surprised his hands weren't singed. She sat a few paces away from him and the warmth of the fire. She had no idea what she had been thinking, agreeing to sit with this boy. Flemeth always told her to stay away from outsiders, and he was definitely an outsider.

Lukas beckoned her over. "Come on! I don't bite," he urged. Morrigan scooted closer, but she was careful to stay on the opposite side of the fire. "So, what are you doing all the way out here?" he asked. "I only ever seen me dad this far out, but he don't go hunting no more. Mum says he's too old." He stopped and shook his head. "Sorry. Rambling."

"To answer your question, I live here," she said. Morrigan clapped her hand over her mouth as soon as the words left her. What was she doing?

Lukas gazed at her sadly. "All by yourself? Sounds awful lonely."

Morrigan shook her head. The things she had told him so far wouldn't put her in danger. So long as she didn't mention that she was a mage, everything would be fine. "I live with my mother."

Lukas was quiet for a long time. "Still sounds lonely," he whispered. He pulled more salted meat out of his bag and chewed on it thoughtfully. "Why do you live out here? Seems kind of silly. You're so far away from all the towns and shops," he mused around a mouthful of venison.

"Why do you ask so many questions?" Morrigan snapped with a glare. He was asking far too much of her.

A little giggle escaped him. "Fair enough. I guess you get to ask me a question now."

Morrigan's eyes narrowed. This boy was very strange. "What if I have nothing to ask?"

He shrugged. "You'll think of something."

"Fine." She wracked her brain for something to ask. "What are you doing out here?"

"Hunting. Got nothing better to do, with no crops growing and all."

Morrigan raised an eyebrow. "What crops?"

"I live on a farm with me family. I got four little sisters and two little brothers. We get by, but I gotta go hunting in the winter. Keeps food on the table," he explained. Morrigan grimaced when he spoke with his mouth full, giving her a rather disgusting view. Flemeth would never stand for that kind of behaviour. Then again, Flemeth wasn't here.

Morrigan took a deep breath to steady herself. Lukas was so honest and kind; the complete opposite of Flemeth. 'Twas…unsettling. "Why did you stop to speak with me? You could have just gone on your way," she pointed out. Perhaps he was working with templars. They could be hiding all around her. Suddenly, she felt dangerously vulnerable.

He turned bright red and stared into the fire. "I-I dunno," he stuttered a bit too quickly. "I-I guess you just…uh…looked like you needed the company," he added belatedly.

Morrigan glanced around discreetly. Seeing no templars, she relaxed. Whatever reason Lukas had for being nervous, it had nothing to do with an ambush. If he wanted to hurt her, he would have tried already. If he was working with the templars, they wouldn't have waited this long to capture her. Nevertheless, this conversation had gone on far longer than it should have. "I should probably be going soon," she said and looked up at the sky through the branches. "My mother is no doubt expecting me for dinner."

Lukas scrambled to his feet. "Me mum will, too. Be expecting me, that is." He held out his hand to help her up and—hesitantly—she took it. Once she was standing, he released her hand quickly, but smiled shyly. "It was real nice meeting you," he said. Having never spoken to anyone but Flemeth, Morrigan had no idea what to say. Fortunately, Lukas seemed unbothered by her silence. "Maybe we could meet again tomorrow? Here?" he asked, a bit uncertainly. He toyed with the string on his bow and only held her gaze for a few seconds before looking away.

"'Twould not be wise," Morrigan replied. "My mother—"

"Doesn't like you having friends?" Lukas finished for her. "I don't think she'd mind. Besides, you don't got to tell her if you don't want to."

Morrigan could scarcely imagine the punishment for this. As it was, Flemeth wouldn't speak to her for at least a day. Those punishments drove her insane. Flemeth was terrible company, but having no one to talk to was even worse. If she met with Lukas again…

"Well, what do you say?" he asked.

Now that she thought about it, Lukas was right. She would be careful, and Flemeth would never find out. This was nothing like what happened with the mirror. She was older now. She knew what she was doing. "Very well," she said. "I will be here in two days' time."

Lukas's grin was so wide, it nearly lit up the entire forest. "Great!" he cheered. "I'll be here, too." With that, he turned and jogged out from under the pine and into the woods.

"Great," Morrigan whispered. She started walking back home, but stopped in her tracks. Lukas had called her his friend. No one had called her that before. In fact, she barely used the word herself. "Friend," she muttered aloud, feeling a bit silly. She said it a few more times, then smiled. She quite liked the sound of it. She liked it even better when Lukas said it.

For the first time in her life, she had a friend.

* * *

Lukas was the most wonderful person she had ever met.

Every time he saw her, he greeted her with a warm smile and a wave. Their conversations had been a bit awkward at first, but soon they both grew more comfortable. Morrigan was still careful not to call Flemeth by her name, and she most certainly never mentioned magic. Lukas seemed to think her staff was a walking stick to help her navigate the treacherous ice and snow, which was fine by her.

When they met, Lukas would usually build a fire and they huddled close to it, talking until one of them had to leave. As spring drew near and the ice melted, the time spent around their fire dwindled. They spent most afternoons wading in the shallow streams of the Wilds or clambering up the massive trees, giving them a spectacular view. Morrigan's tree-climbing skills were a bit rusty; she usually just turned into a raven for such things. Lukas was much better at it, and he was perfectly willing to help. He even tried to teach her how to hunt a few times. It was on one of these days that she first noticed it.

They had been wandering around for hours when Lukas suggested it. Morrigan didn't think she would be any good, but agreed to try firing his bow. He gave her a bracer to strap to her arm. He showed her some faded scars from when he tried to shoot without it explained that the bracer would keep the fletching of the arrow from cutting into her arm. He showed her how to draw, aim, and fire. His movements were graceful and calm. Morrigan gave it a try, and discovered it wasn't nearly as easy as it looked. Her arms shook from the exertion, and the arrow slipped from her fingers before she could fire.

"Good try," Lukas said as he bent to pick it up. "It takes a real long time to get good at this." He held the arrow out to her, but she ignored it.

"If I could not do it the first time, how am I supposed to do it know?" she asked with her arms crossed. "I'm tired. This is not going to work."

"Yes it will. I'll help you," Lukas said so earnestly that she almost believed him. Morrigan sighed, but took the arrow and started to draw. Before she could stop him, Lukas wrapped his arms around her. He was scarcely an inch away and his hands covered hers, taking some of the draw weight. Her stomach fluttered and her face flushed. Her heart was pounding so loudly, she was sure Lukas could hear it. He whispered advice in her ear, but she barely heard him. The way his warm breath ghosted across her face held most of her attention. What was happening to her? Why couldn't she concentrate?

"Alright. I'm gonna let go now, and you make sure to hold on." He did so and Morrigan nearly dropped the bow. He backed away just a bit, and she found that she was disappointed. Having him so close made her nervous, but at the same time…it was exhilarating.

Lukas kept talking, which distracted her from her thoughts. Following his instructions, she focused on her target—a tree about ten paces away. She exhaled slowly, then let the bowstring slide from her fingers. The arrow sailed through the air, past the tree and into the undergrowth. Her shoulders slumped. Brilliant. After all that, she _missed_.

"Well, I suppose that makes me a master hunter," she grumbled.

"It was close," Lukas said with a shrug. Morrigan raised her eyebrows at him. "Close_ish_," he amended.

Morrigan laughed. "'Twould be best if we took a break. My arms are not made for this." That was an understatement; her shoulders _ached._

"Sounds good," he agreed as he looked up at the sky. "Besides, it looks like rain."

Sure enough, it started to pour down on them a few minutes later. The trees shielded them from some of it, but fat drops of cold rain still dripped through the branches. By the time they found a cave, they were soaked to the skin. The entrance was nearly coated with weeds, and Morrigan could barely make it out in the heavy rain. She grabbed Lukas's hand and raced towards it.

As soon as they were inside, Morrigan threw back the hood of her cloak and squeezed the water out of her hair. She started running her fingers through it and winced. It would take forever to comb out the tangles. Lukas shook his head like a dog, spraying water everywhere. Morrigan shrieked when it hit her, and he giggled.

"You did that on purpose!" she cried indignantly.

"No I didn't! Honest!" He kept a straight face for a few seconds before he started laughing again. It was infectious, and Morrigan couldn't help joining in. Nor could she help flicking water in his face.

Lukas spat water out of his mouth and wiped his eyes. "Well, you asked for it," he gasped between giggles. He untied his cloak, and held one end of it. Then, lightning-fast, he flicked his wrist and the cloak smacked into her leg. It didn't hurt too much, but it sprayed more water. He tried to hit her again, but Morrigan danced out of reach and fumbled with her cloak until it was off. They each got in a few more hits before they were laughing so hard they could barely move.

"Truce?" he gasped. He held out his hand and Morrigan shook it. Their eyes met for a moment, and she quickly looked away. Where had all this come from? Was he suddenly feeling this strange as well?

"Looks like the rain's slowing down a bit," Lukas commented, yanking Morrigan out of her thoughts. He poked his head outside the cave and glanced around.

"Yes, 'tis," she added. There was still a slight drizzle coming down, but it wasn't nearly as bad as before.

"I should go home soon," he said apologetically. "Me mum told me too be home for dinner."

Morrigan's shoulders slumped. Lukas got to go home to his family, and she only had Flemeth. "I suppose I should be going." She turned to walk out into the rain, but Lukas stopped her.

"I got to tell you something," he said and bit his lip.

Morrigan felt her stomach do a flip. Her breath caught in her throat. What was he going to say?

"I…might not get to…" He trailed off and gulped.

"Go on," she urged breathlessly.

"Me dad says he needs me help. With the crops and with me siblings. I won't have as much time to be out here," he said. "With you," he added, then blushed.

"Oh." That wasn't at all what she was hoping for.

"I'll still be out here as much as I can," he said quickly. He smiled sadly. "I'm real sorry 'bout this."

Morrigan smiled back. "I'll be fine," she said, then mentally slapped herself. Of all the stupid, uncaring things to say…

"Well, I'll see you soon," he said. He stepped closer to her, and Morrigan thought he would just walk by. To her surprise, he stopped in front of her. He opened his mouth like he was about to say something, but closed it and blushed. Morrigan was just wondering if she should say something when he bent towards her and kissed her on the cheek. "Bye," he squeaked. Before Morrigan could respond, he ran out of the cave and disappeared into the trees.

She stood there for a long while, her fingers idly tracing the spot where he kissed her. A smile slowly spread across her face as a wave of happiness and warmth washed over her. Laughing, she spun and danced through the trees on her way home.

* * *

"This is hopeless!" she snapped threw her hairbrush across the room. She hadn't seen Lukas in at least a week, and it was beginning to drive her crazy. What if he never came back? What if he was too nervous? What if he came back and _she_ managed to screw everything up? She couldn't even fix her hair. How was she supposed to face Lukas again?

With a sigh, she retrieved her hairbrush and tried again. Surely, there had to be some way to pull the unruly, tangled mess into a braid. She would even be happy with a knot at the back of her head. Anything would look better than the stringy black mess that clung to her shoulders. She tried a braid again, and her hair seemed to tie itself into knots. Frustrated, she brushed out her hair. Nothing would work. She might as well shave her head. 'Twould certainly be more practical. She shook her head. No. She could never do that.

Her stomach growled insistently, so she decided to get dressed. She wished for the hundredth time that Flemeth would replace her drab, brown tunic with something with a bit of colour. Even something that didn't fit her like a _sack_ would be nice. She slipped the tunic on with a sigh and struggled into her threadbare leggings. She belted the tunic with a beaded cord and pulled on her black leather boots. As she scrubbed her face with a rag and water from a bucket, she noticed her own reflection. She cringed and poked the dark circles under her eyes. Hopefully, Lukas wouldn't pick today to show up. She looked about as pretty as Flemeth. She was so absorbed in her task that she let out a little yelp and upset the bucket when Flemeth burst into the room.

"Did you not hear me? I told you to get out!" she shouted.

Morrigan calmly rose to her feet. "I'm _going_, mother. If you had given me but a moment—"

"Just go!" Flemeth pointed at the door and watched as she left, then followed behind her. Morrigan's eyes widened when she saw what was in the main chamber. A dark-haired man wearing only his smallclothes lay on Flemeth's bed, tied down and gagged with writhing black ropes. He struggled against his bonds and stared into her eyes. He couldn't speak, but Morrigan knew he was pleading for help. Flemeth strode over to him and trailed a finger over his chest. The man screamed into his gag and the smell of burning flesh filled the room. Smoke rose from his skin and angry red welts bloomed under the old woman's fingers.

Flemeth chuckled. "Quiet," she ordered, and it was like she stole the man's voice from his mouth. Still, he screamed silently into the gag and twisted away from his tormentor. Morrigan wanted to help him, but she couldn't move. Tears threatened to roll down her cheeks, and she blinked furiously to keep them at bay. Flemeth turned towards her. "Did I not tell you to leave?"

Morrigan didn't have a choice. She ran.

* * *

When she reached the small clearing she shared with Lukas, she collapsed under their tree and burst into tears. This wasn't the first time Flemeth brought men to her hut, and it certainly wouldn't be the last. Morrigan knew she couldn't go home for at least a day, or possibly two. Flemeth would use the man until he was begging for death, then she would kill him. Morrigan didn't know how, but she always imagined it was slow and painful. As she cried, she couldn't help but imagine that she knew the man. 'Twas possible she had seen him when she spied on the Chasind tribes. Perhaps he had a family. A wife, children, maybe even a hunting dog. Morrigan beat her fists against her forehead, trying to get rid of the images of the man tied to the bed, screaming for help.

She heard a twig snap and leapt to her feet. She relaxed when she saw Lukas creeping uncertainly into the clearing. He hadn't seen her yet, so she tried to dry her eyes, but they were hopelessly red and puffy. He couldn't see her like this. He would want to know what was wrong, and how was she supposed to explain it?

Before she could escape, he ducked into the shelter of the pine and saw her. "Thank the Maker! You came back," he said with a grin that quickly faded when he saw her face. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing. I got something in my eye," she lied. Her voice came out as a pathetic whimper, and she started crying again. Lukas rushed over to her and pulled her into a hug. Without hesitation, Morrigan hugged him back. He whispered reassurances into her ear and held her until she finally stopped shaking. They eventually pulled apart, but Lukas stayed close to her.

"I brought some food from home. You should eat something. It might make you feel better," he suggested.

"I'm not hungry," she said. She hadn't eaten since the night before, but she felt too sick to eat.

"Just have a bit of cheese," Lukas said as he pulled a small bundle out of his pack. He sat with his back against the tree, and Morrigan sat beside him. He unwrapped the bundle, and Morrigan discovered that it was full of hunks of cheese, dried meat, and apples. The apples did looked good, so Morrigan bit into one. It was delicious, and she found that she felt just a bit better.

Lukas gently nudged her. "You gonna tell me what's wrong?" he asked.

Morrigan shook her head. "You ask too many questions," she grumbled.

"Oh, come on," he urged with a little smile. "Maybe you'll feel better."

"I don't want to talk about it, Lukas!" she snapped, but instantly regretted it. This wasn't his fault. Still, he shouldn't have asked.

"Alright. I'm sorry," he grumbled without looking at her.

They didn't speak for a long time. For the first time in months, an awkward silence brewed between them. They had eaten almost all of the food when Morrigan finally gathered the courage to speak.

"I'm sorry," she whispered.

Lukas gasped in mock surprise. "Wow! That's a first. I'll go down in history as the only man who could make you apologize!"

She rolled her eyes. "Oh, shut up! I said I was sorry. What more do you want?" she asked. He was quiet for a long moment, and she turned her head towards him. "What? No sarcastic retort?" she asked with a mischievous grin.

He opened his mouth, but snapped it shut with a shrug. "Nope. I got nothing." Morrigan laughed, and Lukas joined in. Their eyes met, and Morrigan realized just how close they were sitting. Their shoulders were touching, and she could see that his almond-shaped eyes were dark brown, with little flecks of honey. Their laughter trailed off, and Lukas tentatively reached up to trail his thumb over her cheekbone. She found herself drawn closer, closer, until her lips brushed against. He pulled her closer and deepened the kiss, and she wrapped her arms around him. It only lasted for a few seconds, but she never wanted to let him go.

Reluctantly, she drew back. Lukas smiled bashfully and nibbled on his lip. "Feel like telling me what's wrong yet?" he asked cheekily.

Morrigan felt tears threaten to well up, and she blinked them back. "'Tis my mother," she whispered hoarsely.

Lukas's eyes widened in fear, reminding Morrigan of the man Flemeth had tied on her bed. "Did something happen to her? Is she sick? Is—"

"Oh, she's fine," Morrigan scoffed with a dismissive wave of her hand. "But…" How was she supposed to say something like this? _My mother is currently raping a Chasind man to death and expects me to do the same when I come of age. Oh, and we're both mages. _That would send him running to the templars like she'd lit his ass on fire.

"But what?" he asked and slipped his arm around her shoulders. She snuggled a bit closer, glad for the warmth and the comfort. "You can tell me."

"My mother…" she paused and took a deep breath. "She...hurts people. And enjoys it." She felt Lukas tense up.

"Did she hurt you?" he asked as he frantically checked her over. "That bitch! If she laid a finger on you, I swear, I'll—"

"Lukas! Calm down!" she yelled and caught his wrists. This was a side of him she had never seen before, and, she suspected, neither had he. "I'm in no danger. Besides, I can take care of myself." Oh, how desperately she wished that were true. Lukas relaxed a bit, and she let go of him. "She likes to bring…Chasind men…to her hut. And she does…things…then kills them." She gulped. That could have gone a lot better.

"Maker!" Lukas yelled. "Is that what she's doing right now?" His face went pale, then turned a sickly shade of green. Morrigan nodded, struggling to keep her face impassive. She couldn't let this bother her. Flemeth was just going to do it again, and again. "This is bad. Very bad," Lukas mumbled, as if to himself. He jumped to his feet and started pacing. "Why didn't you tell me sooner? We could have done something! We could stop her!" he shouted and glared at Morrigan.

Morrigan shook her head. "There's nothing anyone can do," she shouted back. "Flemeth will just do whatever she wants, and she'll kill anyone who stands in her way!" She gasped and clapped her hand over her mouth, wishing she could put the words back in.

Lukas stopped pacing and stood deathly still. "Flemeth?" he asked quietly. "The Witch of the Wilds? She's your _mother_?" He laughed, but it was without its usual humour. "I can't believe I was so stupid. I suppose this means you're a witch, too. Just like her."

"Lukas, you know me," she pleaded and jumped to her feet. "I'm not her. I never will be. I swear it!" Tears streamed down her cheeks, unchecked.

Lukas's eyes, which were so warm only minutes before, were hard as steel. He pointed an accusatory finger at her. "I thought I could trust you. Turns out you're just one of them damned apostates." With that he turned and started to leave.

"Wait! Let me explain," she called after him.

He turned back to her. "Or what? You'll use your magic on me? Kill me?"

"I would never do that!" she yelled and took his face between her hands. "You have to believe me."

For a moment, he looked like he did. Then he pulled away, closed his eyes and started whispering to himself. It sounded like a prayer. "Magic exists to serve man, and never to rule over him. Foul and corrupt are they who have taken His gift and turned it against His children. They shall be named Maleficar, accursed ones. They shall find no rest in this world or beyond." When he opened his eyes, Morrigan could tell that there was no hope left. He would leave, and she would never see him again.

"Goodbye, Morrigan," he said without so much as meeting her gaze. With that, he turned and left. She could only stand and watch as he disappeared into the trees.

She would have cried, but she had no tears left.

* * *

The next day, the templars came.

It wasn't the first time, nor would it be the last. Flemeth's little game started the same way it always did. First, she would warn them. When they refused to turn back, she changed into a crow and flew away. The silver-armored men would hunt through the Wilds for a few days, then Morrigan would "accidentally" run, screaming, past their camp. They got up to follow, and she lured them straight into Flemeth's trap. Only Morrigan really noticed a difference in the game. Normally, she was terrified. She wished the men would go away so Flemeth didn't have to kill them. She always looked away when, inevitably, Flemeth slaughtered them all.

This time, she felt nothing. No fear, not even the usual revulsion at watching them die. Flemeth must have sensed it; she let her kill one of them. Morrigan stared into the young man's brown eyes. He reminded her of Lukas. She hesitated for only a second before she sent a bolt of lightning into his chest, leaving a smoking hole. She felt a twinge of regret as he flew backwards and slammed into a tree. It felt so…wrong, taking a life. She had promised Lukas that she would never hurt someone with her magic, but now she had broken that promise.

As Morrigan stared at the man's body, horrified at what she had done, Flemeth laid a hand on her shoulder. "I'm proud of you," she whispered.

Morrigan nodded, completely numb. Flemeth was right. She always had been. In the end, love meant nothing. Power was what mattered, and she certainly wasn't lacking that.

"Return home when you are ready," Flemeth said and was gone.

Morrigan stared at the templar's body. For just a moment she imagined that it was Lukas, laying there with his heart burned out. The mere thought of it almost tore away her mask of indifference, so she banished those thoughts. Lukas was no warrior. Somewhere, he was working in the fields, happy to have reported two dangerous apostates to the Chantry. Just like a good Andrastian. She could almost imagine the boyish grin on his face.

She laughed wryly as she remembered the fantasies she'd entertained as a child. She knew better now. There was no prince coming to rescue her, no castle she could live in, no happy ending to a dark tale. She had finally figured out what really mattered.

With one last look around the silent, bloody clearing, she changed into a raven and flew home.

* * *

**Author's Note: Thanks for reading! I hope you liked it and I would really appreciate a review if you have the time.**


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